Ones and Zeroes

Ada and the Engine – The Artistic Home

Ada Lovelace has one of those life stories that, if it were fiction, would not sound credible. She is the daughter of the famous Romantic poet, Lord Byron, and she became as close to a professional mathematician as her era would allow, making vital contributions to the work of Charles Babbage and the first computing machines. She is credited with writing one of the earliest versions of a computer program, more than a century before computers would become commonplace. The Artistic Home’s new production, Ada and the Engine, centers on this remarkable woman.

Ada’s relationships with the people around her form the core of the show, and in these relationships, Ada and the story shine. Her mother seems to barely tolerate her. Her husband is supportive…to a point. Her friend and collaborator, Charles Babbage, appreciates her for her intellect and enthusiasm, but even this friendship is not without its complications. In watching Ada navigate these relationships, the story feels (depressingly) modern. Several people, Ada included, observe that if she were Byron’s son and not his daughter, she would be free to pursue her interests without concern for anyone else’s feelings. Add to that the fact that she seems to bear the stigma of Byron’s reputation, probably more than Byron himself did when he was alive. Ada brims with enthusiasm for the numbers and logic that order the world, and see what she accomplished in her short life only makes you wonder what she would have accomplished in a different time and place.

When it comes to Lord Byron himself, the show seems to want its cake and to eat it too. Ada did not see her father after the age of one, and the only words we ever see him writing to or about her is a single line in a single poem. Ada explicitly bristles at the notion of being presumed to be like her father, but the last act of the story leans into attempting to build a connection, trying to find the similarity between his poetry and her programming. The attempt doesn’t detract from the rest of the show, but I don’t think it necessarily added to the story either.

Portraying Ada Lovelace, Brookelyn Hébert is fantastic. I’ve known enough STEM majors to say that she absolutely nailed a very authentic laser-like focus on the work that excludes almost everything and everyone else. She ably handles the rapid fire dialogue that conveys both her enthusiasm and talent. She also does a great job conveying the frustration with the arbitrary rules she has to navigate.

The set design, a geometric tangle of lighted beams, is interesting and at points very pretty, but I don’t think it quite overcame my initial concern that wherever the actors were, there was always a piece of the set between me and them. The otherwise minimal set design, just a few chairs and a mock-up of Mr. Babbage’s machine, work quite well. The only other less than successful design choice for me was the decision to punctuate Charles and Ada’s correspondence with the modern beeps and dings that go with a text message. I think there’s definitely a point to be made that for all the bemoaning of modern technology ruining intimacy, the email and text message gives us a lot in common with our forebears who conducted most of their relationships by correspondence. The constant chiming just made me think someone in the audience had forgotten to turn off their cell phone.

After the show, I couldn’t help thinking of Proof, another show about a gifted mathematician reckoning with her father’s legacy. Here’s hoping in another hundred and sixty years, we won’t still have to write dramas about women getting treated terribly for being good at math. When the story is focused on watching a woman come up against everyone else’s expectations for her, it really, really works. When the show indulges in the connections to Lord Byron, I think the show loses some steam, but that does not diminish a compelling story performed by a talented cast.

Recommended

Reviewed by Kevin Curran

Presented June 19 – August 4 by The Artistic Home at 1376 W. Grand Ave., Chicago.

Tickets are available in person at the box office, by calling 866-811-4111 or by visiting www.theartisitchome.org.

Additional information about this and other area productions can be found at www.theatreinchicago.com.